The Boy Who, sadly, Lived
by 1golfnut
Summary: Harry Potter's first year through the eyes of his nemesis, Draco Malfoy
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I may be J.K. Rowling - _in disguise._ Or maybe not. The world may never know...**

You have probably heard of Harry Potter. Of course you have. Famous Potter, born to a detestable git and a mudblood. Famous Potter stopping the Dark Lord at every turn, being Dumbledore's pet, The Boy who Lived, yada yada yada. Of course you've heard of him. Everybody in the wizarding world is practically worshiping him.

Well, I should probably introduce myself. My name is Draco Malfoy, and I have the unfortunate displeasure of telling this detestable tale.

I should probably start at the beginning, the first time I ever met the Boy who (sadly) Lived.

* * *

><p>Father and I were traversing the cobblestone path of Diagon Alley, purchasing supplies for my first year at Hogwarts, extracting a couple hundred Galleons from our Gringotts account, and the like. I was getting my robes fitted at Madam Malkin's when I first laid eyes on Potter.<p>

"Hello," I asked him as he sat down beside me. "You a Hogwarts student too?"

"Yes," he replied nonchalantly.

"Father and Mother are off getting my supplies. They better get me some eagle feather quills. Then I'll take them to go look at racing brooms. Say, do you play Quidditch?"

"No," he replied.

_He doesn't play Quidditch? He must be off his rocker! Probably a potential Hufflepuff; they get all the losers and outcasts._

"You don't? Pity. Well, _I_ do. I'll probably be picked to be on the Slytherin Quidditch team, which reminds me, what house are you gonna be in?"

"I don't know"

"Ok then. Imagine being a Hufflepuff! I'd rather be a Squib!"

"Mmm"

"Don't talk much, huh? Where are your parents? Buying supplies?"

"They're dead."

"My condolences. Is that the great oaf Hagrid right outside the shop?"

"He's not an oaf. _I _think he's brilliant,"Potter retorted.

"You think his brilliant? Ha! That obese buffoon is anything but! There's my parents approaching. See you at Hogwarts, I suppose."

That was the last I heard of him till I saw him on the train to Hogwarts on the first day, the day of the Sorting.

* * *

><p>When I laid my eyes on the bloody idiot for the second time, he was with someone with red hair and loads of freckles. Obviously a Weasley. I spoke up as soon as I saw them."Everybody on this bloody train has been saying rather redundantly that Harry Potter is in this compartment. Is it true? Is famous Potter here?"<p>

"Yes," Potter replied.

Motioning to the behemoths on either side of me, I said, "Oh. Yes. This is Crabbe," I said, pointing to my left, "and this is Goyle. And I'm Malfoy. _Draco_ Malfoy. You've probably heard of my father. You know, Lucius Malfoy, the most influential and richest man in the Ministry?"

"Sure I've heard of him. Most conceited fool in Britain," the redhead beside Potter replied, his mouth stuffed with a Chocolate Frog, _disgusting. _

"And I'm sure I've heard of you, or at least your family. Father tells me that all Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more kids than they can afford. Say, you must be Ron, the sixth child. They'll probably have to sell their house to put you and your little sister through Hogwarts, and even _that_ might not be enough," I replied with a sneer. Potty's little boyfriend turned as red as his flaming hair.

I continued. "You see, Potter, in this world, there are the good sort of folk and the bad sort. You don't want to go off into the destitute crowd of people like the Weasleys and that buffoon Hagrid. I can help you there." Ron turned even redder.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thank you very much. Now leave," he replied coolly.

"Oh, I don't think we're leaving now, are we."

"You'd better if you know what good for you," Ron shot back, his fists clenched.

"Oh, now you want to fight! Well the odds are stacked quite against you. I wouldn't want to have to let Crabbe and Goyle out on you two and your pathetic rodent," I said, referring to Ron's pet rat, Scabbers.

As the words were exiting my mouth, Scabbers launched from the pile of wrappers where he was sleeping and fastened himself to Goyle's little finger.

"Aaahhhh! Get it off me! Get it off me!" Goyle screamed, prancing around like a little girl.

I backhanded the vermin off Goyle and into the window off the compartment, but I could tell this battle was finished. Goyle was still screaming and ran out of the compartment.  
>"This isn't over," I told Potter as I walked beck to my compartment with Crabbe.<p>

As the Hogwarts Express rattled to a stop and Crabbe, Goyle, and I climbed into a boat to ride to the magnificent castle, all I could think about was how much I already hated Potter. I would be facing a whole new challenge at Hogwarts with all the teachers (and especially that mad codger Dumbledore) watching my every step.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If you like this book, then you'll_ love_ On my Wings by PianoGirl5. It's really good.**

**Anything I have in bold in the story is directly from the writings of J.K. Rowling in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.**

**I may be J.K. Rowling - _in disguise._ Or maybe not. The world may never know...**

An ancient, tattered wizard's hat was on a stool in the Great Hall, and it was _singing._ A seam in the brim flung wide open as a mouth, and this song escaped it:

"**Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,**

**But don't judge on what you see,**

**I'll eat myself If you can find**

**A smarter hat than me.**

**You can keep your bowlers black,**

**Your top hats sleek and tall,**

**For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat**

**And I can cap them all.**

**There's nothing hidden in your head**

**The Sorting hat can't see, **

**So try me on and I will tell you**

**Where you ought to be.**

**You might belong in Gryffindor,**

**Where dwell the brave at heart,**

**Their daring, nerve, and chivalry**

**Set Gryffindors apart;**

**You might belong in Hufflepuff** (Losers!)

**Where they are just and loyal,**

**Those patient Hufflepuffs are true**

**And unafraid of toil;**

**Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw**

**If you're a ready mind,**

**Where those of wit and learning,**

**Will always find their kind;**

**Or perhaps in Slytherin,**

**You'll make your real friends, **

**Those cunning folk use any means**

**To achieve their ends.**

**So put me on! Don't be afraid!**

**And don't get in a flap!**

**Your in safe hands (though I have none)**

**For I'm a Thinking Cap!"**

The Sorting Hat commenced his tune to tremendous applause. Professor McGonagall was standing to the right of the sorting hat with a long list of all the first years. The Sorting was about to begin.

"Abbott, Hannah!" Professor McGonagall projected the name of the first person.

Hannah, trembling, ran to the Sorting Hat and threw it atop her head.

"Hmmm, lets see here...HUFFLEPUFF!"(_What a stupid git!)_

Hannah ran down to the Hufflepuff table, her face flushed with joy.

The Sorting continued to proceed in this fashion, where a bunch of stupid gits got sorted into various houses. Finally, McGonagall called out "Malfoy, Draco!"

I swaggered up to the hat, and was about to put it on. It had barely touched the tip of my head when it hollered, "SLYTHERIN!" _Obviously._ I swaggered down to the Slytherin table, where I was immediately flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

The Sorting Hat was taken out of the Great Hall to deafening cheers after it made "Zabini, Blaise", the only remaining first year, a Slytherin.

We then dug in to a scrumptious feast (not like the ones that that filthy vermin Dobby prepares at home, but still appetizing), Crabbe and Goyle taking second helpings of everything.

I also had the chore of meeting new people, like Terry Boot and Pansy Parkinson, to be practically my servants. You know, life will go just fine if you have a bunch of cronies to do your bidding. The more there are helping you, the better.

As I dove into an apple pie, I conversed with my new cronies about usual subjects, such as school, current events, Quidditch, what they needed to do for me as soon as we got to our dormitories, and the like.

Dumbledore then gave a typical crackpot speech, where he stated some usual rules. The only new rule was that the third floor corridor on the right-hand side was now out-of-bounds to anyone who didn't want to have a sudden, painful death. He was probably just trying to scare us into not entering that corridor.

(Chapter Break)

With the Sorting, the Feast, and the delightful act of choosing my personal slaves behind me, I followed the prefects out of the Great Hall. We wound through the castle, traversing through hidden corridors and avoiding fake stairs, fake doors and a mischievous, evil poltergeist, who's name, I found out, was Peeves.

At last, we stopped and entered a cave-like room (or just a cave; I couldn't tell). Once we entered, we were greeted by green armchairs and sofas gathered around a green, harsh fire. I didn't have time to observe the room before prefects whisked me down a hallway and into my dormitory by the looks of it, with green walls with the Slytherin crest on the far back one, a plush green carpet, wooden dressers colored green, and six canopy beds (also, not surprisingly, green). The prefects left me to my own devices. I found a cedar trunk at the foot of the furthest bed with my name printed on it in silver ink that contained all of my belongings that I had brought with me. I was just getting settled in when Crabbe and Goyle burst into the room.

They took me by surprise. "Merlin! What the bloody heck are you two doing in my room?"

"It's our room too, sir. All of the...um... S-S-Slytherin f-first years s-s-sleep in this...erm...what is that word...Oh! Room! We all in this room too!" Goyle worked out, thinking hard.

"Stop blubbering like a retarded git! I get your point!"_ Merlin! Goyle's gonna really have to step it up if he wants to pass first year!_

"I'm tired..." THUMP! Crabbe fell headlong into his bed and started snoring.

"So am I..." THUMP! Goyle followed suit.

_Well, I guess that leaves me, I thought. _ I changed into my pajamas and crawled into bed, thinking about what will happen in the next day. I lay there wondering who I will hex, tomorrow, what I will have my servants do tomorrow, how I'll get revenge on Potty and the Weasel...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: A huge thank you to "ben bienvenu" for the review! Keep 'em coming! **

**I may be J.K. Rowling – _in disguise. _Or maybe not. The world will never know...**

I awoke three times in the middle of the night because of Crabbe and Goyle's booming, almost synchronized snoring. When I finally got back to sleep after the third time, I was awaken only a couple hours later by Terry Boot's bloody alarm clock. _Well, this is a great way to start the day. I got a total of four hours of sleep because of these gits! _I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't. At last, I surrendered and crawled out of bed. Then, I realized that the only people in the room were Crabbe and Goyle (they always oversleep)! I glanced at Terry's alarm clock. _9:30! _My first class started in five minutes!

I panicked for a moment, then jumped into action. I moved some of Goyle's crap off my trunk, threw it open, and hastily put on my clothes. I rummaged through my nightstand, grabbed my wand, and rushed out the door of the dormitory. I shoved my way through a pack of people near the cave entrance (knocking down a few without bothering to apologize) and ran down a corridor to the left.

I dashed up a flight of stairs to the third floor. _Gotta get to McGonagall's room. _I ran inside what seemed to be her room and hurriedly shut the door. _Click!_ That's weird. I didn't know classrooms locked when the door closed. I whisked around, thinking I would view McGonagall looking sternly upon me, opening her mouth to rebuke me for arriving to class late. A booming, bloodcurdling shriek emitted from my gaping mouth.

A terrifying beast stared down and snarled at me. _Three _beasts snarled at me. No, wait. A beast with _three_ _heads_. I ran to the exit and tried the handle. _Locked! _The disturbing, three-headed freak of nature descended on me when I had an idea.

I sprinted to the door and whipped out my 200-Galleon wand. I searched my memory for a spell that would open the locked door.

"_Alohamora!" _I bellowed. The locked clicked open! I quickly opened it just as the monster opened his jaws. I bolted for the hallway in front of me. I slammed the door shut with all my might just as the mortifying creature snapped his jaws shut right where I had been a fraction of a second ago.

_Whew! That was close!_

Panting, I walked away from that door, swearing never to open it again.

I checked my watch. _9:50._ Great. I'm fifteen minutes late to my first ever class (and it happens to be McGonagall's!).

I carefully chose the _correct _path to McGonagall's classroom and flung open the door to her room.

"Seventeen minutes late, Mr. Malfoy. You should be ashamed. So you won't forget to show up ever again, I'll deduct seventeen points from Slytherin, one for each minute you were late," McGonagall said coldly.

"Seventeen?" I hollered, abashed.

"Seventeen and five more for yelling in my class and disrupting it for two full minutes. That's twenty-two points you've lost for your house on your first day. Twenty-two points before the first class ends!" she rebuked sharply.

I decided that it wouldn't get me anywhere to argue with this bloody fat rubbish bin called a teacher, so I dejectedly made my way into a seat between Terry Boot and Pansy Parkinson.

(Chapter Break)

"_Potions," _I whispered aloud as I deciphered my schedule. I took a quick glance at my watch. _1:45. _Good. I've got fifteen minutes till my next class starts. Fifteen minutes to cause some mayhem.

I hid in a corridor near the Hufflepuff common room, hoping to catch some retards unaware.

I viewed a second-year girl with huge glasses and even huger buckteeth. _Fresh meat._ As she walked past, I whispered a hex to lock her legs together. A wave of my wand, and she tripped on herself, books and papers (and hopefully some toothpaste for those crayon-box teeth) flying. Her friend she was walking with whisked around in my direction, but I was too quick for her. I made a mad dash into the corridor. _She lost me! Yes!_ As I walked back up the corridor, I couldn't help but notice a door flanked by two stone gargoyles, each using long spears to block the entrance. I ducked under the spears and tried the door. _Locked! _I decided that the only way to open it would be by password. I was randomly naming off various oddments that could be a password:

"Nimbus Two-Thousand!" Nope.

"Alohamora!" Not that either.

After the fourth try, I was starting to get frustrated. I guessed even more potential pass codes, each more ludicrous than the last.

"Dumbledore! Eagle-feather quills! Forbidden Forest! Durmstrang! Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans! Lemon Drops! Diago-" The gargoyles suddenly moved. They lifted their spears to give access to the door beyond. The door slid open to reveal an elaborate spiral staircase. Intrigued, I started to enter when I remembered something. _Potions! _I checked my watch. _1:55. _Go figure. Five minutes left until Potions, my last class of the day. _I'll investigate this peculiar corridor at a later time, _I thought.

(Chapter Break)

I made it to the Potions classroom about five minutes late. Snape ignored me. _Well, it _is_ Snape. I've got him in my pocket; he wouldn't punish me if I used one of the Unforgivable Curses on someone._ I liked the atmosphere of Snape's classroom. I loved the chilly air, the dim torchlight, and especially the random things stuffed in glass jars littered here and there: eyeballs, various body parts, and what appeared to be numerous disembodied doxies. Before long, Severus Snape began with a stern voice,

"I am Professor Snape, the Potions Master a Hogwarts. For those of you who can harness the power of your concoctions effectively, there are many incredible, unfathomable things you will have the power and knowledge to do: brew fame, instantly create insurmountable fortune, and even keep the ones you love from the clutches of death. A... _select_ few of you," he glanced in my direction, "possess the potential to do these things. Another select few of you do not have the basic knowledge to ever get anything higher than a D in my class. Tell me, _Potter_, what do you get when you put essence of belladonna in with three powdered doxie entrails when your cauldron is being heated at 350 degrees?"

"I-I-I don't know," Potter stammered out. _Merlin, he's dumb!_

Snape's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "I see. Looks like our new class... _celebrity_ thought he was too good to even glance at the contents of his Potions book. Apparently fame _isn't _everything." _Ha!_

In Snape's bloody class we didn't even make any potions. Instead, he just lectured for an hour. The only fun thing about Potions is watching Snape demoralize Potty and is little Gryffindors. For this reason, I began to look forward to Severus Snape's Potions class.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Disclaimer: I've been spending a lot of time writing lately, so this next chapter is out earlier than usual. Read and Review! :)**

**I may be J.K. Rowling-_in disguise. _Or maybe not. The world will never know...**

I awoke early the next morning courtesy to Crabbe and Goyle's (again) synchronized snoring, the retards. _I'm gonna have to find me a new pair of huge and hopelessly stupid bodyguards if these two don't get their act together, _I thought. _Given, that won't be hard. This whole bloody house is full of people like them._

After a few minutes of silently fuming, I got out of bed and roughly woke up Crabbe and Goyle.

At their confused faces, I conjured up a lie. "It's, like, 9:00 already, you idiots! WAKE UP!" In reality, it was only about 6:30.

I exited the dormitory and walked out of the common room with a spring in my step and my cronies flanking me. I traversed the corridors on my way to the Great Hall, hexing any Mudbloods that I happened to see. I even got that blubbering fool Neville Longbottom with a Leg-Locking Curse after breakfast. It was good practice; I was still working on that hex.

I also found it easy to use Snape to aid me in demoralizing Potty and the Weasel quite frequently. Most every Potions class I would do something along the lines of this:

Weasley gets drenched with ice-cold water sprouting from my wand, making it look like he took a whiz in the middle of a lecture. Weasley turns scarlet with a mix of embarrassment and rage and fires a hex at me under the table. I dodged it easily, and my hand shot up.

"Professor, Weasley tried to hex me."

Snape would then turn to the destitute prat and sneer something like this:

"Detention, Weasley, and twenty-five points are to be deducted from Gryffindor. You should know better than to fire hexes at your fellow classmates."

Weasley would then furiously retort. "Malfoy got me first! Why don't you put _him _in detention? Huh?"

Snape's mouth would up into a smirk, and these choice words would always emit it: "That'll be another detention and another twenty-five points from Gryffindor for talking back to your professor and for shifting blame to another student just because you attempted to wrong him."

My life progressed like this for a while, hexing Mudbloods and Hufflepuffs and framing Potty and his pathetic little posse. Time really does fly when you're having fun.

All thoughts of the door flanked by out-of-place gargoyles were out of my mind; I was too busy wreaking havoc and leaving others punished and defeated in my wake. That is, until I encountered the door again.

* * *

><p>I was on my way to jinx more Hufflepuffs when a pair of familiar gargoyles guarded something to my left. I glanced at my watch.<em> Ah, what the heck. I don't have to be anywhere right now anyway; why not investigate? <em>I thought. I fished through my brain to remember the password, then finally remembered it.

"Lemon drops."

The gargoyles reluctantly moved their weapons to allow my passage, and the door slid open. The spiral staircase with the elaborate eagle in the center greeted me, as magnificent as before.

I began to climb stealthily up the staircase. If somebody (or something) was at the top, I wouldn't want to be noticed.

I got to the top and quickly ducked behind an instrument of some sort that was just to my right. I peered around the room from my vantage point. The room was cluttered with various oddments like the one I was currently hiding behind. There was a desk in the center, a phoenix perched next to the desk with her back to me, and... WHAT THE BLOODY HECK?

There was a wizard standing over a large instrument, looking deep in concentration. But not just any wizard, mind you. That wizard was none other than _Albus Dumbledore, _the crackpot old fool. _This means trouble_, I thought. I bolted for the stairs when my foot caught on the corner of the very instrument I was hiding behind. As a result, I tumbled face first into another eccentric device, and it fell to the floor and smashed to pieces with a deafening array of sounds. _I'm dead._

Dumbledore must have been startled at the sound of one of his instruments smashing for no apparent reason, because he whipped around and sped to the scene of the accident. His face showed tons of emotions, namely shock and confusion.

He began to speak in a calm but cool manner. "Mister Malfoy, what are are you doing in my office?"

I decided to tell the truth. Dumbledore _is _a senile coot, but he is still a capable wizard, mind you. If I lied to him, he would find out and bust me for it.

"I-I was walking down a corridor, and-d I, erm, saw two stone gargoyles guarding a door, and, um, the door was locked, and I was um... c-curious about it, so I g-guessed at passwords to get in. The door opened, and I-I w-walked up the spiral, um, staircase, and, um, I tripped on something, and, um... yeah. That's what happened," I managed to get out.

Dumbledore pondered my story for what seemed like forever, doing various wand movements and muttering a lot. At last, he looked up at me with an amused look in his eyes. "I see that your story is true, Mister Malfoy. You were just... _too _curious." He chuckled. "Not that curiosity is a bad thing, but it can sometimes get the better of you. There are some things in this castle that would not be pleasant to find. Just keep that in mind, Mister Malfoy. You may leave."

_That was close, _I thought. _Too close. _Relieved, I descended down the spiral staircase and walked past the gargoyles. _I got lucky there. Next time, I might not be so fortunate._


End file.
